She essentially had one job. Two, to be picky about it.
One: Shelve the books.
Two: Ignore the ‘customers’.
That’s as complex as it should ever have been.
That’s as complex as it had been for nearly twelve years.
Yet for the first time ever in those nearly twelve years, she faltered on the second task. She glanced, when she should have focused more intently on sliding THO in beside THU. She closed her eyes and cursed inwardly at herself.
Of all the days.
Now she stands in the burnt ruins of a once beautiful library.
Smouldering curtains cling pointlessly to their twisted railings. Embers dance and glow on padauk tabletops and mahogany shelves. Shreds of parchment lie scattered and tiny specks of once valuable pages begin to settle like snowflakes around her.